What's a Title?
by EssGee
Summary: Starts immediately after Faking Miracles, and atteeempts to fill in plot gaps in various places in ways that are technically canon-compatible and occasionally shippy.
1. Boss?

The Morpho Mobile may have looked a little worse for wear, but at least it seemed to be running pretty smoothly. He'd been a little worried about taking it out right away, but fortunately everything seemed to be holding well. Henchman 21-of-1 was glad their new friend was a man of many talents.

Once satisfied he wouldn't end up stranded on the side of the road, his mind was freed to worry about other things, instead. For instance: what was up with the Monarch and Dr. the Monarch's Wife? The prior made it sound like a severe reaction to a pretty minor offense, and the latter wasn't answering his calls. Normally he'd assume she was just busy, but here, it had him more worried than he probably had any right to be.

The Monarch smiled and waved when 21 pulled up, but after brief pleasantries- greeting, thanking him for coming- he was oddly quiet. No comment on the car, no asking if 21 had found anything else in the Morpho Cave, no angry rant about anything...

It made him uncomfortable.

The long wait at the next traffic light made the silence that much more potent, and the henchman had to break it. "So uh…" Not that he knew where to go with that, really. He'd gotten a very brief rundown of events on the phone, so it didn't seem like there was much more to tell about the evening. Nor had his own night been particularly interesting past getting the car working, which felt redundant to discuss. "Have you seen the new Walking Dead yet?" When in doubt, geek out. "I broke down and bought the season pass."

"...Huh?" The Monarch looked to him a moment, noticeably still processing the words. "...Oh," he said at last. "Not yet, but that's cool." He returned to gazing out the window, seemingly a thousand miles away.

The next few attempts returned similar results, until at last, 21 sighed. "Dude, are you okay?"

The Monarch hesitated. "... I don't know." So that was a no, then? "I really don't know what I should be feeling right now. Did I screw up worse than I thought? Is she overreacting? Am I missing something? I'm not sure if I should be angry or confused or…"

"Ah…" 21 wished he could help, but didn't see much he could do here. "You tried calling? Or texting?"

"After I got off the phone with you, but she's ignoring me." A bit of his usual fire returned as that nerve was struck. "She accused me of ignoring her, but you know I would never-"

21 cringed slightly, and waggled his hand in an iffy way.

"I'd never!" the Monarch insisted.

"Not this intentionally," 21 mumbled in complacent agreement.

The Monarch crossed his arms and sulked, but the silence that accompanied that did not last nearly so long as the earlier ones. "I just can't believe she thinks I'd lie about something like this!"

He shouldn't. He should keep his mouth shut. This could only make things- "You mean like you've been lying about being okay with her promotion, or the recon work we did on Venture, or the Morpho Cave-" worse… God dammit Gary.

The Monarch's anger visibly swelled; he shifted and squared up in his seat; a hand rose in protest and his mouth opened. ...And then he deflated. For a moment he looked to take back the defensive after all, but again it was given up. Instead he flopped back against the seat. "...God I suck. … I really don't deserve her, do I?"

...That was a topic which 21 had more than enough experience avoiding. Rather than a yes or no, he quickly found himself fishing in an extremely well-stocked pool of indirect responses. "She loves you, though. I'm sure she just needs some time to cool down and you two can talk things out."

The Monarch crossed his arms again and let out an uncomfortable whine. 21 was pretty sure he'd do it, regardless, but he could imagine how much he wasn't looking forward to it. …That, or he'd just… avoid the whole thing and hope it went away. Honestly they were probably equally likely.

21 sighed. "Look, we're almost home. Just see if she's willing to talk yet, all right? What's the worst that could happen?"

The Monarch stood forlorn, locked out of his own room, tears in his eyes as he desperately pleaded. "Honey… Sweetie, please, just…"

But she wasn't answering. Not anymore, at least. Given the previous ten or fifteen minutes before she'd locked herself in there, though, 21 wouldn't be surprised if her voice was giving out.

The henchman waited in the next room, lest he be caught in the fray. When his boss staggered back to him at last, 21 quietly asked, "What… did you do…?"

"I wish I knew," the Monarch whimpered back. "The last thing I remember is looking through suits, then waking up outside!"

Whatever it was, 21 had never imagined things would be this bad. He'd seen them fight plenty of times. ...Technically, he'd caused several of their worse fights, not least of which was the whole Flight of the Monarch incident. But even then, even considering that fight had broken them up for a time, he had never seen Mrs. Monarch this intensely angry before. Hell hath no fury indeed.

He very nearly said something to that effect, but caught his open mouth just before words could leave it. Right, that was only going to make things worse, not better.

"...Well," 21 started instead. "I'm sure she'll calm down by morning." He could hope. In the meantime, he could do his best to keep the Monarch's mind off it. He'd suggest playing in their new clubhouse he meant 'secret lair', but with her home and no one to keep watch, that was probably ill-advised. As it was, they had to park the Morpho Mobile via the secret entrance, then go back outside and walk around to come in the front door to avoid questions. So with that off the table... "We could grab some drinks and catch up on a few shows?" .. 'catch up', 'marathon intensely'... same difference really.

The Monarch gave something between a whine and a groan, but then sighed his concession. "I guess I've got nothing better to do."

Was the Monarch always this much of a lightweight? Not… literally weight but-... Well that kind of played a part, too, didn't it? Whatever. Did he always get drunk this easily or had he just drunk way more than 21 had noticed?

And perhaps a better question: was he always this affectionate when drunk? "Really, I meanit. Youare my best… my best friend. I realry.. I reallylove you, man."

For all the drama and gratuitous blood on-screen, it was all 21 could do to keep from laughing. "Dude, could you be any more of a cliché right now?"

The Monarch answered with an exaggerated pout. "I meeeaaan it though," he whined.

21 smirked and shook his head. "Dude. You sound like someone who's never been drunk is badly writing a drunk scene using only other badly written drunk scenes for reference. That's how cliché you sound."

"Why don't you beliiiieeeeve meeeee."

The henchman rolled his eyes, but the Monarch wrapped both arms around one of 21's and lay his head on his shoulder. A quick flash of panic raced through the henchman, but he managed to calm himself quickly enough. It just.. took him by surprise, that was all. And at least the Monarch wasn't dwelling on the fight. 21 could certainly put up with a little clinginess if it was helping, though.

"You're alvays there for me," the Monarch whimpered softly. "You listen t'me when no un else does…"

21 felt his face heat a little at this, but again he dismissed it. "That's my job, isn't it?"

He didn't know how to categorize the response sound except knowing it signified protest. "I don't wanna keep pertending yer jussa hentsman," he whined, his grip tightening. "You're too good fer tha- you're too gud at everthing."

"...-B-boss, I think you've had a bit too much uh-"

"I had jus' the right amout uh!" That comeback didn't quite work but okay thanks for proving the point.

"Not that this isn't super flattering but-"

"Twenty-one." The Monarch's tone caught him off-guard and his gaze, previously averted, was called straight back to find it met the Monarch's. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised by the look of adoration in the Monarch's eyes at this point, but he was surprised at how much it caused his heart to race.

"When you le… I always knew you'd come home…"

I didn't, 21 thought in reply.

"Buh please dun… don't ever leave me again."

21 said nothing- had nothing. No promises, but no protest, either. He didn't know what to say, or what to do right-

The Monarch decided for him, and before he quite knew what was happening 21 realized the Monarch's lips were pressed against his own. In the next moment, he was standing three feet away, staring bewildered at a dejected Monarch. "D-Dude you are drunk. This- You can't do this, okay? You- I-..."

He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen the Monarch look quite so small or fragile. "...I'm sorry…"

21 bit the inside of his mouth a moment as he thought. "I mean I- it's not-..." He was best words. #1 5ever. "It would be different if…" If he were sober? Would it? ….maybe? Why was this happening? Hadn't he sworn not to get caught up in shit like exactly this? ….Technically those promises to himself had been in regards to the other Monarch but dammit no this still counted, no fucking technicalities. And still involved her, and-

...why him? Why.

" 'sokay," the Monarch mumbled, but he was avoiding eye contact now. He pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and cocooned himself withi- God dammit Gary was just going to avoid thinking on the pun value there for now.

Hesitantly, 21 took his seat once more, and the Monarch scooted to the far side of the couch to give him more space.

What was even happening in the show now? 21 had entirely lost track. He'd have to rewind it…

He managed to find their spot, but had trouble getting back into it. It didn't seem the Monarch was really watching anymore either…

Gary sighed. This had been a bad idea. ...And this was probably a worse one, but he felt bad, so…

"...H-hey uh…" The Monarch looked to him as he spoke. "You could come back over here if you want…"

Dark eyes lit. "Are you sure?" He was already moving as he asked but..

"Yeah, I uh… I wouldn't mind.. maybe.. cuddlingforabit…" Oh he hated himself already.

And yet, as the Monarch's head found its way to his chest and the blanket was wrapped around him, Gary couldn't help but hug him a little tighter than necessary, nor could he get the thought out of his mind that it would be nice if this were more of a regular thing.

For now, though… "One sec." He shifted himself into more of a lying position and wrapped his arms around the Monarch once more. That was better. He'd just… lie here until the Monarch passed out, then he'd slip off to his own room. It was almost a shame he'd be the only one to remember this tomorrow, but it was probably better that way.

Was this even the same episode or had it moved on to the next one..? He couldn't seem to focus enough to figure it out…

The next morning, consciousness found Gary with his eyes still closed. That was okay, it gave him a moment to relish his nice warm- oh dear Lord he was still on the couch with the Monarch, shit.

Okay don't panic, he'd just have to be a lot more careful so as not to wake him. Slowly, he opened his eyes to assess- the Monarch's open eyes looking up at him "SHIT."

21 literally fell off the couch in his scramble, half dragging the Monarch with him. The latter lazily pushed himself back up on the couch while the prior clammered to find his feet. "It's not what it looks like," he hurriedly tried to explain as he did. "I- You were- I was just trying to-" Words. What were they? Gary sure didn't seem to know.

The Monarch moved to sit upright, but his face remained pretty flat, and he said nothing yet.

Gary was certain he was about to start literally sweating. He bit his lip and tried to find words, but only a few awkward noises managed to come out.

Finally, the Monarch took his feet and stretched. "Man, coffee sounds amazing right now." … "Hey, wha'd'you want for breakfast? I'm thinking of trying out the waffle iron."

… Um. "...Yeah. Sure." That could have gone worse. He supposed he shouldn't complain.

The Monarch began heading toward the kitchen, but stopped in front of him. "Oh, and 21?" Shit. Had he relaxed too soon?

"Y-yeah boss?"

The Monarch leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I'm not drunk now." He smirked, then resumed his journey to procure breakfast.

Gary just stood there for a moment, baffled. Slowly, his hand rose to touch his blushing cheek.


	2. Sweetie?

Sheila could smell overcooked waffles even before she made it down the stairs. Hopefully they'd at least be edible, though wouldn't it be her luck that the first morning all week she'd had _time_ to eat breakfast… There were worse fates, she supposed.

For instance, spending her last day home before a long trip fighting with the Monarch. As upset as she was, that wasn't an appealing prospect at all.

And so it was that, despite more than a small amount of self-loathing for always letting herself be the one jumping to fix every problem they had, Sheila had nonetheless resolved to _once again_ do her best to smooth things out.

Which wasn't to say she planned to be a total pushover. Not this time. …...At least… not right away. … She could _pretend_ she wasn't going to give in, at least.

Making her way to the kitchen, she hesitantly called, "Sweetie…?"

There was a small clamor, the source of which she probably didn't want to know, before the Monarch appeared in the doorway, holding a plate and wearing such a sincerely giddy smile that-... "Honey, look! It really works!"

The plate was filled with butterfly-shaped waffles- which were perhaps darker than she'd ideally like, but less burnt than she'd feared. And as her husband stood beaming with pride over this ridiculous novelty breakfast, she found herself being ripped to pieces by the strength of this horrible cycle.

He was _entirely_ too cute to stay mad at. _And FUCK her bleeding heart for wanting to forgive him so easily._ But how could a face this innocent really have meant to hurt her? _That wasn't the God damn point._ The night had been important; she emphasized this _repeatedly._ It didn't matter whether or not he'd _intentionally_ ruined it; it mattered that he hadn't put forth the effort to even _try_ not to. … But was that _her_ fault for trying to force him to be something he wasn't?

She was still pissed about him blowing her off, and now she was pissed at herself for not being pissed _enough_ about him blowing her off, _and further_ pissed that she felt such a compulsion _to_ stay pissed even when she didn't want to? This entire mental process was _exhausting_ and saying 'fuck it' to everything sounded _so_ much easier.

Fortunately, she only had a few seconds to dwell on it before the Monarch… presumably noticed her expression, though she wasn't even sure at this point if she looked angry or just deadpan. Maybe it was just a delay in remembering; that seemed equally likely with him.

Whatever the case, his smile faded and the plate lowered as he let out a small, "Right…" She crossed her arms; he took a step back to allow her room to enter the kitchen and asked, "Are you still angry, then?"

Sheila gave a long sigh, then took the plate from him and took a seat at the table. "Twenty-one, sweetie. Do we still have any chocolate syrup?"

The henchman visibly fumbled, though she couldn't begin to guess why. Had she caught him that off-guard? "Yeah, I think so," he answered quickly enough after, so she shrugged it off.

A few moments later, the bottle was retrieved and her food all but drowned in its contents. Often, she preferred a lighter fare, but indulgence was the flavor of the day, it seemed. Quietly, the Monarch took a seat, while 21 went back to manning the waffle maker.

Breakfast continued in relative silence. She noticed the next batch of waffles- quickly claimed by the Monarch to replace the ones she'd stolen- had come out notably better, and she was curious as to whether 21 had taken over after the Monarch's shoddier attempts, or if they were just finally getting the timing down after some trial and error. Not curious enough to bother asking, but enough to divert her thoughts briefly.

Once her food was finished, and both the boys had made a notable dent in their own plates, she gathered her thoughts and resolve once more. With a small sigh, she turned to the Monarch. "If you could _please_ explain to me what was going through your head last night, I'm willing to listen."

His mouth opened and a few syllables escaped in a garbled blur, but it clamped shut after.

…

"I'm waiting," she prompted dryly.

"I-..." The Monarch's lips twisted one way, then another.

At this point, 21 interjected. "He's afraid if he says the wrong thing it'll start another fight."

"... That," confirmed the Monarch.

Sheila rubbed a temple. "How very reassuring," she droned. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. Admittedly, the Monarch did have a way of being… _less than ideal_ with words when put on the defensive. She supposed she could respect his trying to be cautious about that- or that was how she was going to choose to take it, at any rate. "All right then… Just answer me. Why did you go to Dr. Venture's last night?"

The Monarch frowned. "I _didn't,_ " he answered firmly.

"Sweetie I _saw_ you- _multiple people_ saw you."

"Well that's funny, because _I didn't go._ " Neither paid any mind to 21 cringing or slowly sinking in his chair.

Sheila rolled her eyes derisively. " _Right._ So where _were_ you, then? How come you never showed up?"

" _I did!_ " The Monarch squared his posture a bit, but his tone didn't strike her as threatening; more just adamant.

"Please don-"

"I did though. Granted I showed up in.. _this_ ," he gestured to the black bodysuit and cowl he currently wore on their own, then added more off-hand, "plus usual armor, of course. My normal Mighty Monarch attire." … Sheila felt very strongly that he should have heard any of the seven separate times she'd told him it was a formal event, but this sounded incredibly plausible all the same. She was listening, and raised a brow. "Wale told me I had to change, and a super nice guy offered to let me borrow a suit, so I left with him."

Gears tried turning but something wasn't quite lining up. "...and… _then_ you wound up at Dr. Venture's?"

"Wh- _no!_ We went down to his apartment. One minute I'm in the closet, and the next I'm out on the street."

Gary's fidget was so subtle, Sheila wondered if she'd imagined it. But she had more important things to worry about right now.

"And you have no idea what happened in-between?"

"None."

She wanted to believe him. She really did. "So.. what? Did you get possessed? Did someone use some kinda… I dunno, _mind control gas?_ "

"How should I know!" exclaimed the Monarch.

"I'm like 80% sure that's impossible," 21 quietly chimed in about the same time.

Sheila drug her hands down her face before at last something clicked. "All right, so who exactly _was_ it you left the party, with? Could they vouch for you?"

A look of intrigue came over the Monarch. "Oh! Yeah, he seemed like a great guy, I'm sure! Crap, what was his name…" Given she was only about 95% sure that the Monarch knew _her_ first name, and was pretty sure he still _didn't_ know Gary's, this was one thing she was quite content to wait for. "Ahhhh… God, it's on the tip of my tongue. Really smooth guy. Nice glasses, great hair, chiseled jawline. C...Captain something? Cap.. cop…"

Oh dear Lord. " _Copycat?_ "

"COPYCAT, YES!" The Monarch fidgeted excitedly and touched a finger to his nose. Sheila, however, groaned and rolled her eyes, causing the Monarch's entusiasm to fade in kind. "What, why?"

"Gee, let's see. A smooth-talking villain with the powers of Multi-Man spends all night _hitting on me_ , pretends he hasn't seen you when _apparently_ you left the party with him, and then is _conveniently_ the one to spot you over at Dr. Venture's place. _Gosh_ , I can't _imagine_ what could have happened here." Did it matter that no one else had all this information until two seconds ago? Not particularly.

The Monarch took a second to piece it together, and about the time his expression began to change, 21 was already commenting, " _Dude._ That is so seriously messed up."

" _That lying little prick!_ " The Monarch's voice cracked slightly. " _That's_ why he put on my outfit!"

Despite never turning away from him, Sheila did a double-take, then gestured emphatically in a way that emphasized her, "Why he _WHAT?_ " What.. _the hell_ , Monarch. "Did you not think this was _important_ or-..."

Again his mouth opened and fumbled shut as he verbally tripped over himself, but this time he recovered quickly. "I thought he was just-" ...Partially recovered. "S-since I was uh…" He couldn't seem to make eye contact, and.. was that a blush forming? " _His_ clothes so…"

...Oh.

She… wanted to be annoyed by this turn of events, but instead Sheila found herself chuckling softly. The Monarch was always shy about his more masculine crushes, and she always found his awkward blushing and fumbling about it endearing. But there was something too amusing about this case specifically. Was it his _embarrassingly_ awful taste, to fall for the charm that Sheila herself had seen through from the word go? Or the fact that Copycat had apparently just chosen _the wrong Monarch_ to flirt with? Maybe it was the realization that his compulsion to avoid mentioning 'hey, a cute guy put my clothes on and it was kind of hot' had apparently overridden any trace of 'hey, someone else wearing my clothes _might possibly_ be just a _wee_ bit suspicious in this scenario'. Probably all of the above, though in what order she couldn't begin to say.

She finally realized both were looking at her expectantly, now, likely wondering what was so funny. Rather than try to explain, she just stood up and moved to kiss the Monarch's forehead with a slight smile. "I'm sorry for doubting you, baby."

As he looked up at her, his gleefully innocent smile returned. It was always one of her favorites- running a pretty close race with his most sinisterly wicked smile. How exactly those two competed so closely, she'd never know, but she'd never complain about having found someone to do both so well. "So… we're good?"

For a moment, she smiled back, but reality began seeping into her thoughts and ruined it. "Not… _exactly…_ If we've got no way of proving this to the Guild, we're still gonna have to deal with some of the _mess_ it's caused. Not to mention keep an eye on _Copycat_ from now on."

The Monarch wrinkled his nose and gave a small " _eugh…_ "

Sheila rolled her eyes, though she shoved aside the small amount of bitterness toward the fact that _she'd_ be the one dealing with 90% of it; it wasn't _his fault_ , after all. "Tell me about it," was the closest she came to saying anything. But she'd cross that bridge when she came to it- unfortunately _very_ soon, but not this _very_ second. So… " _We're_ okay, though." She leaned down to kiss his lips this time- and let out a small gasp as he pulled her into his lap. Well in _that_ case…

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed 21 grabbing a few dry waffles as he got to his feet. "I just remembered a thing that needs done, I have to leave right now immediately."

Sheila tried not to laugh, despite the fact that he was gone before either could really react, and despite the fact that she really did feel a bit bad for putting him in this sort of situation so often, lately. Some small part of her wished there was something she could do about it, but the rest of her quickly remembered how likely that was to go horribly for everyone, and the thought was buried once again. With it out of the way, she was free to notice other things. Like, "...So, it seems we have the kitchen all to ourselves…~"


	3. Good Guy?

It wasn't that the Monarch didn't enjoy his wife being home. She was the wonderful light of his life. ..mmmost of the time. But right now? He really, really wanted to play with his new cave.

He was glad to have the Copycat incident sorted, but her increased vigilance- 'to prevent any more mix-ups'- was less than ideal. Even with her preoccupied by work most of the previous day, it felt like he was constantly in the corner of her eye. So he just… sat, and smiled, _and waited._

Now, the following morning, he was more than a little antsy, praying she didn't notice or ask why he was fidgeting more than usual.

Currently, there were lying in bed, her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her, having… _some_ idle conversation. Apparently he was replying? But had he been quizzed on the topic, he wouldn't have been able to give an answer. Most of his active attention was split between wondering what other secrets his new egg sac may hold, and wondering if 21 had been able to dig up any more obscure Blue Morpho appearances, and- after having realized stopping his foot from fidgeting entirely required _far_ more effort than it was worth- trying to ensure it was at least toned down compared to how pronounced a tic it could have been at the moment.

Finally, she snuggled against him and lamented, "I really should start getting ready for work, sweetness."

"Nh? No it's no problem." She moved and leaned up to kiss him, and he pulled her more into that. Also, his hand apparently moved of its own accord to squeeze her ass- not that he was complaining.

She grinned down at him wryly. In a hushed tone, she remarked, "You should've asked sooner, but I really do have to get up _right now_ if I'm gonna be ready for the Guild to pick me up."

His nose wrinkled a moment, but just reaffirmed, "Yeah it's cool." She rose to her knees and leaned up further to kiss his forehead, then worked her way out of bed and began her morning routine.

The Monarch, meanwhile crossed his hands over his chest and stared at the ceiling, his foot twitching a little harder. ' _The Guild' my ass,_ he thought. He knew she meant _him_. Eugh. They had plenty to fight about lately without dwelling on that, and they'd already hashed it out a little when Killinger first formed the new Council.

 _Oh but sweetie,_ he thought mockingly, (not really understanding why his mental voice got slightly _higher_ when mocking his wife but whatever), _it's different now!_ He rolled his eyes. _He's a really decent guy when he's not going electro-shock axe crazy and overthrowing authorities! He just needs another chance. I definitely don't still want to bang him or anything!_

He took a deep breath and huffed it out perhaps a bit too quickly. He did trust her, so at least there was that saving grace. He just didn't trust _Limb_ , and knew his wife could sometimes be…. easily persuaded. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite worth fighting about right now, which meant he just got to choke on his disgust for a while instead.

"Uh-huh," he heard himself saying. ...Oh, crap, was she still- were _they_ still talking? Shit. What about?

Oh hey, she was getting in the shower! That meant she'd be occupied for a little bit! He sat up in bed and looked toward the open bathroom door. "Nnn.." She was definitely still trying to talk about.. something.. Something Guild-related it sounded like? ...But. Egg sac. IIIiiiiihhhhhh _just a few minutes_ he just needed to see it. Just if he could.

He scrambled out of bed and out the bedroom door as quietly as he could, then rushing downstairs. Manolo and a few of his men were working in the hall.

"Señor Monarch," prompted Manolo. "Eggshell or semigloss?"

"I don't _care_ ," the Monarch nearly hissed. "Whatever you think is better." What he was really interested in right now was- "Twenty-one!"

His faithful henchman was indeed up, and seemed to be looking over some sort of nerd magazine while eating a bagel. He looked up from that as his name was called, though. "Morning, boss. What's u-"

"C'mon we're going to the egg sac!"

"...The what?"

"It's my new name for our secret lair! It's butterfly-themed!"

21's face twisted a few ways for a moment and he set down both his magazine and breakfast in order to gesticulate his confusion, but then made a ceasing gesture instead. "Okay, that aside. Dude _no_. We can't go down there when your wife's home, you _know_ this."

The Monarch's full body fidgeted a moment and he let out a small whine, and then, "C'mooonnn, just for a second." Turning, he called. "Hey Manolo! You can keep watch, right?"

Manolo shrugged. "I guess so."

The Monarch smiled as he turned back to 21. "Seeeee? So hurry, while she's still in the showerrrr."

21 pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why can't you just wait like a half an hour for her to leave?" _Because that was too looong._ The Monarch just kept up his pleading smile. … The henchman sighed. "Fine. But for the record, this is a stupid idea."

* * *

Well, _that_ wasn't the Monarch had been expecting. How could 21 ever think he'd even consider-

"Señor Monarch? Your wife is coming down the stairs."

Panic. "Crap. RUN."

… Incidentally. "Running up this many stairs in fuzzy slippers should be _illegal_ ," the Monarch hissed, half to himself.

"Dude I _told_ you this was dumb," 21 hissed back.

They just managed to make it up and close the door before she entered their line of sight, but they were in a weird place and out of breath and there was no way this didn't look sus-

Suddenly, the Monarch's back was against the bookshelf, and 21 was moving in. W-what?!

For a moment, their kiss- kisses, technically- the other day sprang to mind. Was 21 that bold all of a sudden?! And in front of Dr. Wife? -He… he felt like he should have protested but _he didn't want to._ Instead, in that fraction of a second, he found himself really hoping…

But those hopes were quickly dashed, in a way that also left him relieved. But wait, was this any better? The fucking _tango, really_ 21? At least he could follow along. ...When did 21 learn to tango, anyway? How did he know the Monarch knew? _Did_ he know, or did he get lucky? What would he have done if the Monarch hadn't been able to follow?

Fortunately they didn't have to find out, since he could… and did… Follow, that is. 21's lead. ..21's… surprisingly strong, borderline forceful lead. Oh dear God his heart was still all aflutter and he didn't know what to do with himself uh-

As he was dipped and Dr. Wife came back into view, his surprise was borderline legitimate as he exclaimed, "Sweetie! H-hi!"

They managed to play off the tango, and while it seemed for a moment she was still going to be suspicious, that fear was lifted as a laugh crept into her voice. He had to wonder if she was laughing _at_ rather than _with_ them, but he could deal with that. Crisis averted.

He was a little stung to realize she was missing date night- but realized too late that he could make that work. Several days monitor-free? How could he _not_ encourage her to go?

As suspected, her douchebag ex was there to pick her up- or carpool, or whatever the hell it counted as with those Guild Dorks driving. Was-

Was that a fucking kiss? Was it on the cheek or mouth? (Did he even fucking care? Not really.) Was it just Limb kissing her or was it mutual? He couldn't tell from this angle.

Several screeching alarms blared in his head, but being able to complain to 21 made it better. … As did imagining no less than a dozen gruesome death scenarios for the invisible douche. Yes, that was _much_ better.

And fortunately, he had another fantastic distraction all lined up. For the moment they drove away, he declared, "TO THE EGG SAC!" ….. Oh wow. Okay, maybe 21 was right. He'd uh… need to think about that.


	4. Ghosts?

Phantom Limb stepped out of the limo as he saw the mansion's front door open. If he were being completely honest, he had somewhat mixed feelings each time he saw the place being renovated, after living in it for so long when it was still dilapidated. Part of him felt the old place deserved it, and was glad to see it doing better. But another part was infuriated to see _the Monarch_ of all people be the one to make it better, to reap the rewards of it being better. And even he could not tell whether the infuriated part was actually larger or simply spoke louder.

Of course, he _always_ had such feelings seeing things thrive more with the Monarch than they had with him.

Fortunately, no one could force him to be honest about either.

"I'll see you in a few days," he could hear her saying as she came down the stairs. He couldn't help but flash the Monarch a smile, letting him take from it what he would.

Dr. Mrs. Councilwoman smiled at her co-worker as she approached, but it faded as he greeted her. "My dear, you're looking stunning as ever."

"...Thanks," she mumbled in reply, but he did not take it to heart.

Indeed, despite the lack of enthusiasm, she was content enough to let him take her hands, and even gave one of his a light squeeze in turn. Neither did she protest when he leaned in to kiss her cheek, though she both did and didn't return the gesture, lightly touching her mouth to his skin but making no effort to make a real 'kiss' of it. Still, it was enough to encourage him, particularly from someone with lips as succulent as hers.

As one hand served to support hers to help her into the limo, the other ran down the length of her back- not touching, but rather hovering a few inches above it. Of course, the action was known only to him- a guilty pleasure and a very old habit. However, as his hand neared her perfect posterior, he dared to let it drift a little closer- a mistake that would cost (or, debatably, _reward_ ) him when she bent down at a sharper angle than expected. Well, he was touching it _now_ ; may as well play it off by carrying through.

Afterward he turned to smile and wave at the insect for good measure, then flipped him off wearing the same smile for extra good measure. It truly did bring him no end of joy, having reached a point where his invisible limbs were more often a boon than a bane.

He climbed in as well and shut the door.

He glanced to find the councilwoman sitting rather properly: posture straight, hands in her lap, forward-facing. However, as she felt his eyes on her, she side-eyed him. "Could you not," she droned.

He put on a mask of mild offense. "A mere accident, I assure you. It's shan't happen again."

She rolled her eyes, then slumped forward slightly as she sighed, hands gripping the hem of her skirt. "Remind me again why we have to meet in _space?_ "

He gave a pronounced, one-armed shrug. "Because _Killinger_ established it as the Guild's base of operation." He twirled his hand as if that would accentuate his point.

She tugged the hem to straighten it, then clasped her hands together and leaned back, ankles crossing. "Yeah, but… Doesn't it seem, I dunno, a little much? I mean the cost of rocket fuel and the travel time. Couldn't we just save Meteor Majeur for special occasions and rent a conference hall or a _warehouse_ or something?"

Her naivete was as endearing as always, but misguided. "I'm afraid it's the _principle_ of the thing," he explained. "It's _symbolic_." A hand flung emphatically. "Meteor Majeur has a long, rich history spanning some of the finest decades in the guild's _history_." His arms made a broad, outward sweep, his hands grasping upward and tightening like talons on the final word. "It represents a return to our roots- to a time before the corruption ushered in by our previous Sovereign. You can't just-" he made a shooing motion- " _brush_ that away for mere _convenience._ "

She seemed to accept that explanation, albeit reluctantly. As such, he decided to appeal to her practicalities as well. "Not to mention, it ensures everyone's fullest attention and participation for the duration of the meeting by avoiding interruptions."

"Yeah…" she borderline groaned. "...But couldn't we do that with, like, a boat?"

Phantom Limb gave a soft chuckle at that. "Afraid not. Dragoon gets seasick, don't you know."

"Ih." She shrugged weakly as she turned her gaze out the window. A beat… two… Her gaze snapped back, now questioning, mouth agape. "...How-..." But soon enough, she gestured as if to gently push the topic away. "You know what? I'm not even gonna ask."

"Red Mantle doesn't understand it, either."

"Still not asking." She crossed her arms and leaned to look out the window again.

He smirked at the response. _Dear, sweet girl_ , he thought, but refrained from saying it aloud. She truly could be such a child at times, yet unlike most people, it seemed to come off in ways that usually _didn't_ infuriate him.

Although this left him with a different conundrum, as she'd dropped not only her protest but the conversation altogether. Well then, it seemed it was up to him to pick it up. " _Speaking_ of our fellow council members," he began. "Have you found any promising new candidates since the last review?"

She shrugged weakly, and one hand briefly left to cross to waggle as she answered "Ihhh?" before returning to its prior position. "It seems like everyone and their pet mutant hamster are applying lately, but they're mostly really low-levels."

He nodded. "Seeking the easy path to the top, no doubt. I take it there are a few exceptions?"

"None that'd be my first choice. A few for the Maybe Pile, though?" She grimaced slightly. "I'm sure we can find _better_ , but just in case we _can't_? There's… Let's see. Dr. Blight, real name apparently. Works with chemical warfare, pretty straightforward there. There's some emo kid who calls himself Despaircrow. Mostly tries to get inside his arches' heads, lots of scare tactics. ..but he miiight also be immortal? I was planning to suggest we look more into confirming that, at the meeting."

Phantom smirked. "I could test that on my own." His flippant shrug was actualy visible as a momentary flash of lightning coursed down his arms and fizzled at his fingertips.

She rolled her eyes, but he could see a hint of smile betraying her even as she insisted, "We're not _killing_ anybody over exaggerating on their application."

"Suit yourself," he murmured, but his tone was clearly teasing. "Any others?"

"Well, Bombinatrix seems like a _blast._ "

His mouth twisted and he tilted his head away from her slightly as he leered at her. Unsurprisingly, this only made her grin more at the juvenile joke. Were they 20 years younger, he'd have actively _scolded_ her for sinking to such a level, informed her of all the reasons such puns were a terrible form of comedy. ...But in the moment? Her smile was somewhat contagious.

… Incidentally, it was not lost on him that this attitude was held by a man who called himself _Phantom Limb_ , or that a vast majority of hero and villain personas were similarly layered in meaning. But _that_ was _word play;_ it was _clever._ It was meant to invoke thought, not used as a mere _punchline!_ There was clearly a very distinct and important difference.

"Then there's Dot Comm," Sheila continued. "I gotta be honest, I'm not sure I totally get what she's sayin' her powers or theme is supposed to be? But she's _really_ eager. She keeps checking back to see if it's been reviewed yet."

He slightly sneered and made a flippant gesture. "So what you're saying is she's _impatient._ "

"I'd prefer to see it as _initiative_ ," she countered. "Sometimes ambition is the best trait to have, honestly."

...Mm-hm. "Is that what we're filing the Monarch under, now?"

She blinked, took a beat to process the question, then gave him a quizzical look. "What, no. I was thinking of 21, actually."

Who? ..Aah, that was right. "I'm not sure I'd count being the singular henchman of a washed-up Level 4 _ambitious_ , but who am I to judge?" A councilman whose job was exactly that, for starters, but…

"Ignoring the washed-up comment," she paradoxically snarked before moving on in her more usual tone, "that's not really the point here. Have you seen him in a fight? 21 could _easily_ be a high-tier villain in his own right if he tried."

"And yet I'm still not seeing the ambition," he remarked with a slight roll of his eyes.

"My point is he wasn't always _like_ that. How many henchman even _survive_ almost 20 years? Because I know of _one._ " That was a fair point; she had his attention. "Sure, occasionally kids do it for a year or two to get started and _if_ they make it through _that_ break out on their own or move up to #2 positions. But they'll start at a level 1, 2? Maybe 3 if they're really good.

"But 21? _Jesus_ , it's a miracle he _lived_ as long as he did." She paused a moment, then smirked and joked, "Speaking of people whose immortality status we might look into."

He gave a very tiny, slow clap. ...Which she couldn't see. ...Well it was _sort_ of audible? He just pretended she'd know what it was rather than bothering to narrate.

Further explaining, she went on. "This wasn't a kid looking to get some experience under his belt before taking on the big leagues, 15 years in and he was _still_ bottom of the barrel. Then all of a sudden, he gets the right motivation, and boom! Suddenly he's leading solo missions and training the _other_ henchmen. The only reason he's not our #2 is because he insists on keeping his number."

"...Can co-villains _have_ a #2?" The moment the question left his mouth he felt stupid for asking, but it was never a thing he'd had to deal with.

"I mean I assume so? Then again since there's already two of us, would that make him our #3? Or maybe the co-villains count as a tie for #1?"

Somehow, he managed to hold back, _Or in your case, 1 and 0._ "...Speaking of numbers, is he _still_ -?"

"21 _of 1?_ Yeah, I don't ask. But look, we got _way_ off topic. The _point_ was, 21 proves how much of a difference motivation can make. He has _no_ formal training, _no_ special powers, and no big pool of resources. If he were to apply as a villain his stats on paper wouldn't do him justice, but in a one-on-one fight? 21 could probably take on some _Level 10s_ , if he _had_ to."

Phantom Limb scoffed. " _Surely_ you exaggerate."

Sheila shrugged. "Okay probably only really select 10s and only under the right circumstances. But 8s, 9s? I'd put money on him."

His brows raised, and he stroked his chin. " _Would_ you now?"

She deadpanned. "I meant hypothetically."

He shrugged. "I suppose your dear husband _would_ throw a fit over you risking his last henchman, wouldn't he. Still, if he were really as good as you say, it shouldn't be any _real_ danger, hmmm?"

She gave a displeased sound he couldn't quite read, and insisted, "It's not even that. Gary's become part of the family at this point. I can't just-" She stopped abruptly, no doubt noticing the look he gave her now. Awkwardly, she tried to continue. "I think we're way off the original point again."

"... _Gary_ , is it?" he murmured.

She ignored him. "My _point WAS._ I'm not pushing for Dot in particular, but I've seen firsthand the difference the right drive can make, so I just think that _in general_ , we should maybe show a little stronger consideration for candidates who seem more eager about the position than others. That's all."

"... Interesting."

"Anyway, those were all the notable applicants off the top of my head, not counting the ones already on the Council's consideration list, so…"

She was trying so very hard. But he knew her tells- probably far better than she herself. "Does he know?"

"...Does who know what?"

 _Most_ interesting… He waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing." He'd grant her the topic change… for now. "If I'm not mistaken, weren't three of the four you mentioned women?"

And she latched on. She went on about how it seemed most of the female applicants were trying to go through her, as if they expected her to favor them, so-on, etcetera. The conversation continued moving on from there. But in the back of his mind, Phantom Limb debated how he might best use this new information.

* * *

Sheila did her best not to think about the incident for the rest of the day, though she supposed that if there was a silver lining here, it was that she'd learned it was, in fact, a bad idea to ramble about 21. Better to embarrass herself in front of Phantom Limb than the entire Council, right?

Of course, on the note of 21 and the Council, this reminded her again of their "special training", which she had no real intention of mentioning to the Council. It _was_ something to keep her smiling throughout the day, though. And it made a lovely thought to jump to each time she tried to feel embarrassed about the other one.

She wasn't really sure who they thought they were fooling, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't have a small degree of mixed bitterness that they hadn't bothered to say anything to her, yet. Honestly. She walks in, 21 has the Monarch pinned against a wall, and suddenly they panic and do something ridiculous? What _else_ could they have possibly been doing? _You probably could've picked a less conspicuous dance, boys_. She found herself chuckling quietly.

Fortunately, they were also _adorable_ , and watching them fall for each other since 21 came back was even more so. So between the Monarch's _usual_ caginess toward male interests and her own past… ahem… _discrepancies_ … She could certainly forgive them being a little nervous about making it official. Besides, she'd be willing to guess they hadn't gone very far yet. It all seemed butterflies-in-stomachs (no pun intended, particularly not with how that pun might play out in this case) and little stolen kisses and new relationship energy, from what she could tell. That was a cute phase. She could let them have it a little longer.

"Phage just arrived," Sheila heard Wide Wale saying as she passed him.

"That leaves just Red Dragoon and Radical Left, correct?" asked Dr. Z.

They were currently waiting at the launch site. Once the whole Council was here, they'd be suiting up and heading to Meteor Majeur. Until then, though, there was a frustrating amount of time to kill. She could have left home a little later had she known. Oh well. Better early than late, she guessed.

She found a table to sit at, and decided now was as good a time as any to eat. She fished the small granola bar from her coat pocket and opened it.

Halfway through the bar, Phantom Limb found her once again and took a seat. Part of her felt she should complain… but with his pal from his little Revenge Society not here yet, Sheila _was_ probably the Council member he knew best. And, if she had to be completely honest, she hadn't actually minded his presence for the majority of their time on the Council. It borderline _infuriated_ her that he could still be so easy to talk with after all the things he'd put her through, but such was the state of things.

It seemed he had the same idea she did- except he'd had the foresight to bring actual food. Some sort of pasta in a tupperware dish, it looked like. She did her best to neither stare nor make it too obvious that she Wasn't Staring as she took another bite of her granola.

Apparently, her effort wasn't good enough- or he just felt like rambling. Both seemed equally likely. Whatever the case, he suddenly became a food critic, analyzing his meal aloud while he ate, emphasizing how ~fancy~ even the simple parts were in his typical fashion. She did her best to ignore it, with curt "uh-huhs" and such, but when that didn't seem to be working, she thought maybe…

"I was a bit pressed for time this morning, so I didn't have time to pack anything myself." Aka, stop rubbing it in, jerkass.

He watched as she ate the last bite of her bar, and then, "...Dear girl. That's not all you've had all morning, is it?"

Ugh, no don't do that. "Well- Yeah, but it's fine, really. I do this all the time when I work early." Judging from the look on his face, she'd just made it worse, not better. "No it's my own fault, I should have gotten up earlier. It's fine."

" _Nonsense_ ," he insisted. His fork appeared to float toward her with a bite of pasta in tow. "Have some."

She huffed a sigh. "Hamilton, really, I'd rather just not eat."

"I won't hear of it!" he protested.

"Would you p-" Her lips clamped shut as he touched the pasta to them. She glared and gave an extra pronounced frown, knowing if she continued speaking, he was going to make her eat. Of course, she could get up and walk away. She imagined he valued his dignity too much to chase her around with it. ...But she _was_ really hungry, and he'd talked it up so much, she supposed she may as well see what the fuss was about.

She rolled her eyes, then held up a finger to emphasize ' _one_ '.

"Fair enough," he agreed.

She sniffed a small sigh and took the fork from him. Like hell was she about to let him feed her like a child. At last, she took the- _holy shit that was actually delicious._

He gave a self-satisfied chuckle upon seeing her eyes light, regardless of how she'd tried to hide it. "I thought so."

"Okay, so it's pretty good. But I took a bite, so-"

"Are you _certain_ you don't want more?"

… No. No she was not certain of that at all. "I… _guess_ if you have _enough_ I wouldn't mind…" Smooth.

He pushed the entire container toward her. As Sheila shot him a questioning look, he shrugged and remarked casually, "I actually hard a rather large breakfast, so I wasn't very hungry."

 **. . .**

Sheila's gaze shifted into a very slow leer. She _knew_ that line. Specifically because she'd _used_ that line. On him. _A lot._ Way, _way_ back when they first met. Pre-Guild, pre-phantom limbs. When she was just a student with an inappropriate crush and he was just an underpaid teacher living on ramen noodles. She used to bring him meals, and when he'd insisted that gifts from a student were inappropriate, she'd spun it. Oh but she just _couldn't_ eat all this, and didn't know _who_ else might want it, so it was _just going to go to waste_ if he didn't _help_ her.

"If you would help me finish this, I'd certainly be grateful."

She knew exactly what he was doing… and she was going to let him do it. "Well it _would_ be a shame to let it go to _waste_ ," she said, just a little too stilted- which was to say, basically in her Roleplay Voice. He smirked knowingly in response.

Thus, slowly, she allowed herself this indulgence. Was it a little strange? ...Perhaps. Should she probably be more resistant to letting him take care of her like this? … Maybe? Like… usually? But she couldn't really deny that, just for little things like this, just every great once in a while… it might be sort of nice to have someone looking out for her again.

Honestly, at this rate, she still might not even eat it all, but-

"...What's that look for?" she asked.

"Sheila. Dear." ….? "If you're just savoring, I'll take that as a compliment, but I _do_ hope you're not being so delicate on my account."

Only then did she realize just how slowly and gingerly she'd been picking at the food. Honestly it wasn't even 'on his account' so much as a force of habit around _anyone_ who wasn't the Monarch or, lately, she was getting better around Gary. … A habit that he'd probably helped cement in the past, no less, though more blame honestly went to her parents.

Still. He really did seem like he'd gotten Better about a lot of things, and even back when, he mostly prompted her for manners _around guests._ Here? The other Council members had passed through the room a few times, but they seemed to be the only ones actually sitting here. And.. honestly, even if he'd cared, she didn't need to impress him, right?

So she began to dig in more heartily. It would certainly have still felt weird if he'd just been watching her, but he began to talk as well, which was far less awkward. Occasionally she'd pause to comment, but mostly she just listened and ate.

At one point, she thought she felt something not quite brush against her thigh, as faint as a hair or a housefly, but over a wider area. As soon as she glanced that way, however, the sensation vanished; and Hamilton just continued along the same ramble, so she decided she must have imagined it.

To her half-surprise, she actually did manage to finish off the dish.

"Really, Hamilton, thank you again," she was saying now.

"Think nothing of it." She was 90% sure there was a dismissive waving motion with that, despite having no evidence beyond knowing him. "You really should take better care of yourself, though."

Ehhh, she didn't want to talk about that. "You know I sometimes forget you can cook so well," she noted instead.

"Oh! Wasn't the bolognese simply _divine_ , though? You know I could send you the recipe some time, if you'd like."

She wasn't sure how often she'd use it, if ever, but she supposed it couldn't hurt to have. So she shrugged. "Sure. I wouldn't mind."

And there was that odd not-quite-touch sensation again, this time on her shoulder. But once again, even as she started to notice it, it was gone. Perhaps she was just over-tired… They'd already established she really should try to eat better while she was working. She _could_ probably stand to get a little more sleep, too. She'd have to make a note of that…

Soon, Phage came to inform them it was time to suit up. She was still having mixed feelings on the whole Council In Space concept, but she supposed there was really nothing she could do about it. Oh, though… before they had to turn off their cell phones, was there anything she still needed to tell the Monarch, or….

Soon enough, she became so absorbed in that mental checklist that she didn't even pay attention to which space suit she was grabbing. … Or notice that it was too large after she'd put it on. … Or notice that it was made for two heads. … Wow. Okay, she _definitely_ needed to start getting more sleep.


	5. Date?

Sheila had been so excited to surprise the Monarch. She'd had it all planned out, all the ways she'd make it up to him for nearly missing out, for being late getting started. Sure, the cost of the extra shuttle trip to bring her home early was gonna come at least in part out of her paycheck, but it was worth it.

...Or it would have been.

But when she got home, she found the house quiet. Immediately her mind jumped to conclusions, but she tried to stay calm. Maybe he had just... gone to bed early?

No such luck.

Maybe he and 21 had just... gone shopping? Or... She tried to think of other plausible explanations, but only two really stood out in her mind, however she tried to cover them with others.

Either she'd been wrong earlier, and he and 21 had gotten closer than she realized… or he was arching again.

Maybe arching someone new, like he was _supposed to_? Maybe out _looking_ for someone new to arch? At… this time of night… Her stomach turned as she considered the actual odds of that.

She knew she should probably just go to bed, but it wasn't like she'd be _able_ to sleep until she knew for sure. Or concentrate on anything else, really. So, as petty and obsessive as it made her feel, she found herself sitting on the stairs, waiting. Her thoughts cycled between dwelling on possibilities (oh God, what if he'd gotten himself hurt?), feeling bad for dwelling, and doing her best to self-justify her dwelling: rinse and repeat.

The house was dead silent this time of night. A few times, she heard the faint sounds of vehicles outside and felt on-edge, but as each passed she grew more frustrated. Then, at last, she heard the rather more distinct sound of a bus stopping.

Her nerves exploded all at once as she heard what she was certain was the Monarch's voice, however distant and muffled, piercing the air just enough to be audible. She could not have been certain, but she _thought_ she heard something about 'the most fun he'd ever had'. This was either going to be awful, or wonderful-and- _still_ -awful.

She could hear he and 21 talking about something or other as they came up the stairs, but it wasn't as shouted as the first bit, and she was too busy trying to collect her thoughts to worry what it might have been.

As he opened the door, the first thing she saw was that he was _not_ in his Monarch costume- which meant he wasn't arching! And for perhaps an entire quarter of a second, she found herself relieved.

Until the rest of the picture registered. He… _wasn't_ in his Monarch costume. How often had she _ever_ seen him out of it, sleep and sex excluded? Was that a _suit?_ … He _owned_ a fucking _suit!?_ And he'd still first shown up at Wale's in his damned _costume?_

… He wasn't even wearing the _cowl._ He'd _married her_ in that cowl.

And then she saw his face. She could scarcely bring herself to even be _angry._ She was just _done._

Of course, all this had flown through her mind over the course of about another second. "Oh, _look_ who's home." Her voice was positively scathing.

There was only one reasonable conclusion here, and their… gut-wrenchingly pathetic attempt to reprise their earlier cover was nothing if not obnoxious. His attempt to find an excuse only made it worse, but she wouldn't let him.

"I know what's going on." She glared, _daring_ him to deny it. "You went out on _date_ night with 21 _to spite me_ ," she spat.

"...Annnd, that's the reason! Yeah! Exactly that." ...Oh Lord. That smile, and his tone- "I feel sooo ashamed… honey." The way he overplayed that suddenly, the one eye peeking at her reaction. _UGH._

Any other day, she'd have reminded herself that the Monarch could be a little… eccentric. That this behavior wasn't _necessarily_ suspicious. She'd have taken that 20% benefit of the doubt that he just behaved oddly in general sometimes and ignored the 80% chance it meant something. She might still do so later. But today, within the moment, she was not so generous. And through the lens of her rage, that 80% was looking much more like 100.

Which meant she was wrong, then. Or rather, she'd been right _before._ It _wasn't just_ to spite her. It was _also_ a sincere date, and even now, _directly_ confronted, he _still_ felt the need _to lie to her_.

Sheila couldn't handle this right now. She took a deep breath, and refused to say anything else until she'd had plenty of distance and time to reflect. Turning, she marched up the stairs. _Let_ them do whatever. She didn't fucking care.

To prove _how much_ she didn't care, she flung her suitcase across the bedroom as she entered.

She carelessly tossed her coat and hat down on the bed, then let herself fall backwards onto it as well. She could not _believe_ the Monarch _trimmed his beard_. He'd been growing it literally since they met. Not since the very _day_ or anything, but how long had they been together before he started? A few weeks? A few months? She hadn't seen it this short in probably ten years, _at least._

It was nothing but salt in the wound at this point that it _looked good..._ Ughh. It wasn't like her husband wasn't always absurdly attractive to her, or that she didn't find a definite appeal in his devotion to his whole persona. ...But when he put forth the effort _to clean up…_

So of _course_ it was eating her alive that he _only_ seemed willing to put in that effort _for someone else._ … Or to _spite her._

Sighing, she sat up and began working at her boots.

Honestly, she didn't know _which_ it had been, or if it was some mixture of _both._ She didn't know which would feel worst, either. 'Both' would have been her first guess, but on further consideration, multiple reasons could justify something without either reason being _as strong_. Would lower degrees of each feel less awful than a single compelling force, then? _Uuuugh_ , she didn't wanna think about this. ...But she was going to keep doing so, wasn't she?

… And it wasn't like she didn't get it. _She did._ She hadn't been around enough, lately. He probably felt _abandoned_. He had needs, and maybe she hadn't been considering them enough lately.

… But- she'd _offered_ to stay home, and he'd _insisted_ she go ahead!

... So what did that prove, huh? For all she knew, he was just doing everything in his power to be as supportive of her work as he could, even when it was upsetting him. Maybe going out with 21 had been a spur of the moment decision late in the evening? Or maybe he did have it in mind from the time she left… but as a way of fulfilling his own needs without 'burdening' her? That…

The Monarch did and _didn't_ do things like that. He'd make plans around others's needs at _times_ , but it usually came with mocking or attention otherwise called to it. To just be genuinely supportive and humble, even if in an underhanded way… Then again, he did seem like he'd been trying _really_ hard lately to be more sensitive, to keep his temper under wraps… Should she really be _begrudging_ him if there was a chance that this was actually such a good sign?

…

 **But why wouldn't he just _tell her_ then?** She felt her rage bubbling back up as she rose to her feet and began working at the buttons of her dress.

She huffed a sigh. Maybe he _had_? Maybe he _meant_ to. But why agree when her emphasis was _clearly_ on intent to spite her, and why try to convince her he was really _ashamed?_ Why not, 'no sweetie, it wasn't meant to hurt you, I just like 21'? Why not 'sorry, I meant to tell you sooner, but insert excuse here'? Tell her she'd been too busy or that he was just embarrassed or irrationally afraid of how she'd react or- _something_. Don't agree it was to spite her! What the _hell_ , Monarch?

Bitterly, she tossed her dress on the bed.

… A moment later, she rolled her eyes and reluctantly picked it back up to straighten and hang instead, before it got wrinkled. It wasn't really 'dirty' yet.

Incidentally, being a professional supervillain may have altered one's perception of how many days in a row it was acceptable to wear the same outfit. ...Eh. She may as well hang her coat and put her hat up while she was here.

All the while, though, her brain never stopped spinning.

 _Honestly_ , if he'd just have been straightforward about it- Hell, there was a part of her actively _rooting_ for this, before tonight. Did he think she wouldn't understand? Did he _seriously_ not know her taste in men by now? Had he just _conveniently forgotten_ her _own_ history with Gary?

… Which… _she_ had downplayed... And _he_ was still, to her knowledge, under the impression that it was _their_ history with Gary, because _she'd_ never bothered to correct him when he assumed it was a threesome. ...Because… _she_ had never told _him_ how easily she got swept up by that dork's awkward charms. Meaning she… actually had _no_ room to be angry with him for doing _exactly the same thing_ , which somehow only made her _more_ angry that karma was _such a spiteful bitch._

She found herself pacing around the room.

Hell, for all she knew, the Monarch had spent this whole time just _assuming_ that 21 was fair game, probably _for both of them_ if he did. And this was as much her fault as his if so, because _she'd seen signs, she suspected something._ She was _just_ as capable as he was- or probably _moreso,_ technically- of communicating if something seemed off and making sure everyone was on the same page. But she hadn't.

 _Fucking_ hell, did that mean _she_ could have been flirting with Gary this whole time, _too?_ That she'd spent all this time pointedly avoiding ever mentioning their kiss or his declaration of love _for nothing?_

Another thought occurred as she finally moved back to the bed, and she scoffed derisively.

Because that really didn't _matter,_ did it?

She hadn't brought it up, but neither had _he._ She wasn't about to open that can of worms, but she'd been prepared on some level to address it if he did. But there was nothing, was there?

She still thought she caught him trying not to stare from time to time, and he was always eager to please regardless of which of them asked him for any given favor. But not the way he used to be around her. He didn't get flustered and trip over himself trying to talk to her, anymore. He didn't come off like an overwhelmed puppy so desperate for attention that he had no idea how to go about actually asking for it.

Maybe she was just reading too much into it... The day they'd spent together monitoring the Monarch, he'd gotten very comfortable too, right? Maybe he'd just realized there was nothing to be afraid of, or maybe the change in behavior could be chalked up to him being more confident in general, lately. Maybe his time away had changed him, or maybe...

… Or maybe his interest had just shifted entirely to the Monarch, completely over her.

And maybe she should have absolutely zero right to blame him or to feel slighted or jealous at all, given the way she treated him for so long, but couldn't seem to convince herself of those objective facts.

And _maybe_ she felt very nearly as betrayed by _him_ going behind her back and she did about the Monarch doing so.

And _maybe_ Sheila fucking abhorred her _awful,_ aching heart for its insistence on being utterly _asinine_ about this.

But no amount of loathing, directed inward or outward, could stop her mind from repeating these thoughts, over and over and over again, weighing and comparing and finding herself no more sure of what to believe than when she'd started.

At least an hour passed- maybe closer to two- before exhaustion finally claimed her. The last thing she remembered noting before it did was that the Monarch still hadn't come to bed.


	6. Titles?

She bought it? She bought it! Yeah! Kano and the Blue Morpho quietly but enthusiastically high fived. As the prior glanced up the stairs after Mrs. Monarch, he did find himself feeling suddenly conflicted and a little worried… but for the moment, he was still buzzing. He tried momentarily to stop smiling, but found he couldn't quite do so. ..Oh well then. He shrugged off the concern for the moment; no sense fighting this high while it lasted.

His partner turned to head into the study. Gary watched puzzled for a moment before following, calling in a slightly hushed tone just in case she was still in earshot, "Dude, what're you doing?"

"Wha'does it look like I'm doing? We've gotta put these suits up, right?"

"But-" Not wanting to say anything incriminating aloud, Gary let out a small whine nodding back toward the foyer and stairwell, then at the bookcase entrance, then between them again with another displeased noise.

It took the Monarch a bit too long, but he did finally get it. "Right. So wha'd'we do then?"

Gary thought. "We could just stash them in my room for tonight and I'll take care of 'em tomorrow."

The Monarch shrugged. "Yih. All right."

Gary led the way- back out the study, through the foyer, the den, the kitchen (where snacks were briefly debated but ultimately decided against), into the hall and down a ways until-

"Hey, where _do_ you sleep, anyway?"

Gary slowly stopped and turned to look at him. "...Dude. Seriously?" Based on the look he got in return, the Monarch had no idea what the issue was. Gary leered slightly and sighed. "Thanks. Always nice to know you care."

He was content to leave it at that, turning to continue, but the Monarch argued, " _I care_ ," voice somewhat hesitant and borderline whining. Not a reassurance, but a protest.

Gary turned back again, raising an eyebrow. "Really."

" _Yes_ , really," the Monarch sulked.

How best to make his point…. Oh, that was always a good one. In a casual tone, he asked, "What's my name?"

A silence fell.

That's kind of what he tho-

"It's 21," said the Monarch at last, tone a little too firm as he crossed his arms.

. . . The henchman rolled his eyes. "Okay dude. Let's just-"

They started walking again, but the Monarch cut him off. "Look, it's not my fault, okay? You're 21 _to me._ I don't have any _reason_ to remember what someone else might call you."

...That almost made sense. Almost.

Gary resigned not to drag it out, but just to get in one last jab, he conceded, "Whatever you say, Malcolm."

The Monarch stopped so cold that the air around them dropped 10 degrees. Gary honestly wasn't sure if he stopped of his own accord to match or if he'd just been frozen to the spot. Looking up, he saw the Monarch's jaw clenched, muscles tensed, but also a ferocious fire in his eyes. It did not melt the ice pervading around them, but not for lack of trying.

" _Don't,_ " he said at last.

Gary struggled to find his voice. "I- Sorry. I didn't realize-"

The other man turned and spat right on the carpet. Ew. " _Malcolm_ has been _dead_ for a _long_ time," he seethed. "I am the Mighty Monarch." Looking over 21, then himself, he added, "And I guess now I'm the Blue Morpho... You can call me boss, sir, dude, _bro_ ," he waved his hands a bit in a mocking manner for that one. " _Whatever_ crap like that. ... But that. is. it. _Never THAT_ name." Another beat, and he sighed, adding in a weaker tone, "That isn't me."

Though he wanted to avert his gaze, 21 fought to look him in the eye as he nodded. "It won't happen again. My apologies."

… So that was… awkward. Should he just… keep walking or…? Before he could decide, the Monarch spoke.

"Anyway…" Hm? "It's like, what… Carey? ..Gareth- Gary, right?"

A slow smile came to his face. "Yeah… Not bad, honestly." When he wasn't predisposed to being bitter about it, he did realize the Monarch's memory wasn't always the greatest.

The Monarch visibly hesitated, and then, "...Do you… want me to call you that from now on? When you're not Kano?"

Gary honestly did consider it for a second, but then shook his head. "Nah. I like being 21." Obviously, given he was currently '21 of 1', and outranked Henchmen 2 through 20 even when he wasn't. But there was also... To schmoop, or not to schmoop…? Ah, what the hell. Against his better judgement, he added, "It's kind of cool having a name _you_ gave me…"

The Monarch's face lit at that. Once again, they resumed their journey.

After a few moments in thought, Gary smirked over his shoulder and challenged, "But can you remember my _last_ name?"

Without missing a beat, the Monarch replied, " _Not_ Nighthorse Campbell."

Gary couldn't hold back his elated grin, though he _could_ keep facing forward so the Monarch couldn't see it. "-C-close enough," he half-stammered. ..But honestly? That was _way_ better than a straight answer.

. . .

"...Dude, just how far _is_ your room?"

"Just up these stairs now."

"Since wh-" The Monarch stopped, staring at the _circular_ stairs. "...Have you been sleeping in the fucking _tower_." It wasn't a question.

Dorky grin aglow, Gary answered confidently, "It is my wizard's sanctum."

The Monarch just stared at him in response- but not with the leer or groan he'd expected. His eyes were too wide for that, and… was he fighting a smile? What was that face supposed to mean?

He didn't have much time to consider it as the Monarch soon shook it off and replied. "You are _such_ a _weenus._ " But as they ascended the stairs, Gary found himself smiling more than offended at the remark.

As they finally rose to the floor that currently served as his room, he immediately moved to the wardrobe on the far wall, hung his coat on the door, and began to take off his shirt.

The Monarch, however, had stopped to look around.

"...What's up?"

"Hn?" A beat, then he shrugged. "I dunno, I guess I thought you'd have more geek stuff than this."

Gary's face heated slightly. His room was pretty austere, all things considered, but there were still several pretty noticeable things, and... the Monarch was expecting _more_ rather than less? Rather, he seemed… maybe Gary was just misreading but it sounded like he was _disappointed_ by this? He uh… he'd kind of worried he was _pushing_ it with this much _._

All the same, he found himself shrugging. "Between the old henchman quarters and living in a tent for the past year, I guess I'm just not used to having much in my room." … Did that mean he wouldn't get a _separate_ room to convert into his personal treasure trove of games, books, posters, and collectibles, eventually? ..Or maybe _a few_ with different themes, as many free rooms as they had? Nah. It just wouldn't be the same room he slept in.

"Huh." The Monarch then dropped the subject and his coat.

Gary didn't notice he'd slowed down until he realized that the Monarch managed to get his vest and most of his shirt off before Gary had finished his own shirt. Oh wow, he uh- He must have spaced out pretty hard there.

… He _must_ have, because he definitely wasn't getting entranced by watching the Monarch strip. That would be ridiculous, given the number of times he'd seen him in practically (or on rare occasion, _actually_ ) nothing. He had _literally_ watched him change clothes several times earlier that same night. It wasn't like this was any different.

Except for the fact that this was happening so very late at night after spending the whole evening together, having fun, and-… also… probably killing a man.

Suddenly Gary's gut turned so hard he felt woozy, but he grabbed the wardrobe and steadied himself. _He didn't want to think about that now._ Besides, that dude might be okay, right? He was… _90_ % sure he was dead, but right now he was going to focus on that 10% doubt, and on the Monarch. As long as he had the Monarch here, he didn't have to give in to whatever thoughts might haunt him while alone.

As long as he had the Monarch, who seemed to be looking him over, if he wasn't imagining things.

In Gary's dimly lit room, that he was being brought to for the first time.

After what they had both agreed to Mrs. Monarch was- "Oh shit."

The Monarch moved to the bed and sat to untie his shoes, while Gary hung both their shirts and ties. "Sup?" asked the Monarch.

"Are uh… Are you sure the whole 'date' thing isn't gonna be a problem? I mean I rolled with it when you agreed but I kind of feel bad for lying to her… And this is-" He paused and bit the side of his lip a moment. "It's not gonna cause a fight, is it?"

The Monarch sniffed a small laugh and rolled his eyes. " _Puh-lease_ ," scoffed the Monarch. "Does my wife seem like the jealous type to you?"

". . . I mean… Maybe?" He wasn't sure if this was a trick question but… "How similar to this is arching Dr. Venture?"

"That's its own thing," the Monarch insisted flatly.

"Okay…?" He kicked off his shoes, then felt hesitant for just a moment before ignoring it and taking off his pants. "So you're sure it's cool, then? I mean I know you guys have your whole… _thing_ but you've never mentioned the rules of it or anything so…" … Being barefoot was bothering him. Thankfully, his slippers were next to the wardrobe, and Gary slipped them on.

"Oh that?" The Monarch brought his shoes and pants over to the wardrobe as well. "Eh, that's kind of different." That wasn't really explaining anything but okay. With a too-casual shrug, he added, "She'll probably be a little mad at first, but it should be okay since it's you."

What? … _What?_ How was he supposed to take that? Why was _he_ special? WAS he special? Gary's heart rate had suddenly doubled, and the Monarch standing less than a foot away now with both of them in next to nothing really wasn't helping anything.

By the time Gary finally found a shred of coherence and opened his mouth to try to ask, the Monarch was already speaking again. "Besides, we weren't exactly lying, right?" he asked with a smirk and a slow wink.

"...I mean…" Yes it was technically date night, and yes they had technically been out together, but that wasn't exactly…

The Monarch propped an arm against the wardrobe and casually leaned in to smile down at Gary. "We're _sort of_ dating, aren't we~?"

"WHAT?" He didn't.. _mean_ to look at him as if he'd just sprouted a second head but… what?

The Monarch frowned. "... Am I wrong? I thought we…" Gears visibly turned a moment before concern creeped into his expression. "Oh…" His gaze fell to the ground as he stood up straight again. "I guess _I_ just kissed _you,_ huh… I mean I know we didn't really _talk_ about it but I sort of assumed you would've asked me _not_ to anymore if…"

Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh- "N- _no,_ " Gary insisted. "You're fine! … I mean. No that's not 'fine'. In the future, silence isn't consent. Like have that on record. That's important. Don't assume and stuff, but… It's… It's okay, it's... fine. I uh…"

A small silence fell as each tried to think of what to say. The Monarch crossed his arms, and finally settled on glancing hesitantly up at him with a, "Well then… _would_ you maybe want to?"

. . .

In his mind, Gary pushed the Monarch against the wall and kissed him hungrily, unleashing every pent-up desire stored deep within him and lavishing upon this man whose fervor and passion for everything he did had been so much of Gary's inspiration for the entirety of his adult life and slightly longer than that. He began pouring out praise on the precipice of poetry, declaring his devotion, embracing the man and his feelings without hesitation.

… Back in reality, however, he crossed the room and sat on his bed. "... I dunno. Maybe?"

Again, the pause felt too long.

"... I mean it's cool if you don't." There was a tinge of disappointment to the Monarch's voice, but more sincerity. "As long as you're still my Kano I don't really care what else you are."

That was… probably more reassuring than it should have been. Romance was optional as long as he remained a well-trained attack dog. Gee, thanks. … But he knew how it was meant, and it really meant a lot to him? What did it say about his life that that was the case… Wow.

But then… "Would you seriously _want_ to date _me?_ "

The Monarch deadpanned. "Oh, _no_ , I'm just _asking_ for the _fun_ of it!" he mocked. "I just couldn't think of anything better to do." Gary pursed his lips and refrained from mentioning he'd had people do exactly that. As… his exclusive being-asked-out experience, for that matter. Not that the Monarch could be blamed for that. "Of course I'm serious, dingus."

"... _Why?_ " That probably came out a bit too emphatic, but only a bit.

A beat. "You're joking, right?" Another beat, and another. The Monarch made his way across the room- "You're _seriously_ going to make me do a lame-ass spiel, aren't you?"- and sat on the bed beside him. Sighing, he rolled his eyes and conceded, " _All right_ , fine." Despite that, Gary realized he was smiling as he spoke.

"Because you're _loyal_ , for starters. I can always count on you to have my back." Except the time he left for an entire fucking year but they didn't talk about that much. "You're not afraid to be straight-forward with me." Except for the fact that he was a compulsive liar under pressure. "Hell, you're not afraid of much of _anything._ " Except _everything, constantly_. It got to a point that he just learned to function around it because reacting to every single thing that scared him would literally kill him. He was like the Bruce Banner of fear over here.

The Monarch continued listing traits Gary mentally disagreed with, but there was no protest aloud. "And honestly. Have you _seen_ yourself lately?"

. . . Great. So the one thing he couldn't argue with was lust-based. And also, something he'd have disagreed with for the vast majority of his life. But now, honestly, even if he did still get an occasional fat joke from people and even if it still hurt when he did, overall he was pretty fucking happy with his appearance. So that much, at least, was some nice validation...

Well… If he could admit that, then he supposed he could admit that the rest was pretty nice, too. He did _try_ to be those things. Prided himself on his efforts, when he was feeling more overall confident, even! So even if _he_ felt like he failed half the time, it was nice that someone didn't. And it was especially nice that that someone really mattered...

Suddenly, Gary felt the Monarch take his hand and squeeze. "Really though. You're my _best friend_ " Gary felt perhaps more flustered than he should have at realizing he couldn't argue with _that_ , either. "You're _amazing_ , and strong, and smart, and _a fucking badass._ " He squeezed again as he grinned. "Why _wouldn't_ I want to date you?"

Gary fought to muster his courage, still not quite believing this was happening. He was here, he could hear it, feel it. But this had to be like… some alternate reality wherein his life was much kinder, right? Where he was allowed to actually achieve longterm goals in life rather than just doing his best to find happiness in the moment? There was no way this was _really_ happening, right? Even though he was bound to wake up at any second and be disappointed, though, he wanted to enjoy this while he could.

So, finally, he mumbled a quick "okay" before pulling the Monarch in for a long, deep kiss. Part of him worried it was too forced, or clumsy, or messy; but it was returned with equal vigor all the same, and _he_ was certainly enjoying it.

… God, this was weird, though, right? Like, he had to wonder who first came up with 'making out'. Who one day said, 'I like you so much that I want to smash my face against yours repeatedly'? And how was there actual criteria on what defined 'good' face-smashing?

Also, why were his thoughts wandering to such asinine questions when he was trying to savor the moment? _Wow_ he really was bad at romance. _Focus._ Focus on the feeling of soft lips, on the friction between rough tongues, the small sensation of the Monarch lightly biting his lip- why was that such a pleasant feeling? How did it feel so different from biting his own in other contexts? .. _Focus._

Finally, the Monarch pulled away just enough to give him a wicked grin, touching his forehead to Gary's. "Wha'd'you say?" he all but growled. "Wanna make this date _really_ official~?"

Gary pulled away and backed up probably a foot before he realized he'd moved. "UH-" The Monarch quirked a brow, and Gary swore to God it somehow changed to the shape of a question mark. "I mean- yeah I _kinda_ _do._ Or I mean I _would._ Like the _idea_ of- of se-ex-" suddenly when it was a legitimate possibility, the word felt alien on his tongue- "maybe, that is. With you. Eventually."

The Monarch's brow rose a little higher as he gave a questioning half-smile. "But..?"

"B-but it's just… kind of sudden and…"

He was certain that laugh wasn't meant to be _at_ him but it still wasn't really helping. "What? Have we not known each other long enough?" he teased.

Hardy har har yes he got the joke but… "N-no, it's uh… It's just I'm…"

The Monarch rolled his eyes playfully. "Dude, stop acting like such a little virgin."

"...Yeah?"

"..." The Monarch blinked.

"Dude, _yeah_. I am. Okay? Hell, you're only the third person I've even _kissed._ " He didn't bother adding 'and the first I've kissed _while sober_ ' or anything about 'the first time I wasn't the one to start it'.

Thankfully, the Monarch seemed to be backing off rather than antagonizing him for it. "Hey, sorry, I didn't-" . . . What was that sudden look for. "...Waaaaaaait. … Dude! I thought _we'd_ slept together?"

Oh. ….Shit. "...N-nnno. Not exactly…"

. . . "So was I just watching or-"

"No… We uh… She and I just... made out. That was it."

. . . "So was I just watching or-"

Gary sighed in exasperation. He thought he'd already _dealt with_ getting this off his chest but here they were again. "Dude, _no._ You weren't involved, okay? You were asleep- or unconscious, or whatever the hell the Monarch Mind _Infractor_ counts as." The word was slow and laced with contempt; he was still a little bitter over the missed name opportunities. "We just- We made out. With you right there. It-..." He looked away. "It was entirely my fault, okay? I'll get it if you're pissed."

The silence probably only lasted two or three seconds, but each felt much longer as Gary debated whether to look back for a reaction. At last, he heard a more-bewildered-than-angry, "What the _fuck!?_ Why wouldn't she _tell me_ about that?"

Gary's attention snapped back to him, his hands flaring in his most emphatic 'are you serious' gesture. "DUDE…" His hands flinched in the Monarch's direction a moment, then were pulled in to indicate himself, then moved to their previous position again.

"... Ptch," conceded the Monarch. Though he crossed his arms and sulked, he said, "Fine, point taken."

Well, that could have gone worse. It uh… sort of killed the whole vibe for the moment, but at least it was nice getting that cleared up. So that was something, right?

"I kind of wish I'd realized, though." Huh? The Monarch leaned back, propping himself with both arms. "I mean. I knew we both sort of _liked_ you." Back the fuck up _what?_ She- since-? _What?_ "But I wasn't really sure if you felt the same way." _How?_ "I'd just kind of assumed we all got really hammered some time and things sort of _happened,_ ya know? But if you actually managed to seduce her, one on one?" Gary's face burned hot; he _really_ didn't know if _seduce_ was the right word… "As one of like a hundred henchmen, at that? That's impressive. She must've really seen something in you."

A few noises came from Gary's mouth, vaguely protesting and/or questioning in nature, but calling them 'words' would have been a bit generous.

The Monarch's eyes widened a moment in a seeming realization, and his smirk widened. "But dude, _seriously_. That's damn near how she and I met, but even _I_ didn't have the balls to approach her _as_ my boss's henchman. I had to wait until I could break out the whole Mighty Monarch persona for her."

"What, really?"

The Monarch laughed lightly. "So I guess this kind of works out perfectly, huh? ..Assuming you still have a thing for her?"

His pause probably wasn't half as long as it felt before he all but whispered, "...yeah…?" As stunned as he was by everything, the more the reality of the situation sunk in, the more he found himself started to smile.

Suddenly, the Monarch's arms were around his shoulders, and their cheeks were touching. "That's _fantastic._ "

In a million years, he could _never_ have imagined _that_ being the reaction he'd get. Now he _knew_ this had to be an alternate reality. But, well, while he was here… "Do… Should… I try to talk to her, or do you wanna, or…? Assuming you mean-... You're suggesting all three of us, like, _together_ , right?"

"Hell yes~!" The Monarch hugged him tighter and nuzzled against him.

. . . Suddenly, for no particular reason whatsoever, Gary was that much happier to own an Obi-Wan cosplay, and felt a strange need to rewatch the prequels (ignoring the poor execution and inserting fanon interpretations where necessary, of _course_ ) and possibly also the entirety of Clone Wars to see if he could get more into the idea of Anakin, Padme, and Obi-Wan as an OT3. Not that he was some sort of filthy shipper or anything. Of course the term 'OT3' was totally common knowledge that it didn't take a filthy shipper to know, let alone use.

"You should probably let _me_ ask to be safe, though," came the answer at last, the Monarch releasing him and standing up to stretch. ..kind of awkwardly. Gary really did need to get him some proper underwear and also to learn how to avoid staring better. "I can do it alone or have you there, too. Whichever you want. We really need to try to catch her at a good time, though. Maybe give her a day or two to calm down."

That sort of made sense, but, "Are you sure it's a good idea to put it off like that?" Not that he was just really eager to hear her answer. … Like, _yes_ that was a factor. But it wasn't the _only_ factor.

"Well it's not like she would be very open to suggestion if we asked her _now._ " Fair enough… "It'll be fine, don't worry." The Monarch physically handwaved the issue, then began… pacing? Or was he looking for something? Er…

"H-hey uh… Not that I don't love talking to you, but if you're not gonna take care of this then I kind of need to."

"Uhm-" Gary just clenched his mouth shut and nodded firmly, rather than risk saying anything-... well, anything. That was… more than a little embarassing but… understandable?

"...Could I borrow some porn?"

" _What?_ "

The Monarch rolled his eyes. "Dude, don't pretend you don't have a stash. I can't get to mine without bothering Dr. Wife and there's _no way_ she's gon-"

" _Okay I get it_ ," Gary said quickly. The rest of that sentence could have been… well, _relatively_ innocent, considering the subject, but he wouldn't at all put it past the Monarch to go entirely too far. Debating a moment, he finally asked, "Do you just wanna borrow my laptop?" He nodded toward it, sitting on his desk. "Just… be careful with it and stuff…" It was… probably still better not to call attention to his 'special software' folder, but if the Monarch happened to find it, he doubted it would be an issue at this point.

The Monarch gave a displeased "nnn…" in response, though. "That requires actual _searching_ and _effort_ thooough. You don't have anything, just, on-hand?"

Gary was going to die of embarrassment before the night was over, he could feel it. He shifted to draw his feet up into the bed and bit his lip (see? completely different), whining before conceding in a mumble, "Left middle drawer."

"Sweet!" He should have just said no this was going to be awful. He could hear the Monarch opening the drawer, going through the magazines, but he wasn't looking. He was cocooning himself in his blanket and contemplating the odds of suddenly developing teleportation or planeswalking powers. "... Uh. Dude?"

Gary silently whimpered, but he answered, "Yeah?"

"Do you have anything that's _not_ softcore?"

"... No?"

The sound of more rummaging. "... Anything with _dicks_ in it? At _all?_ "

"..." He lay down, still curled up, and covered his face with a pillow. "No…"

A beat, then the sound of all the magazines being dumped back into the drawer, and the drawer being closed a little more forcefully than necessary. "Well that's fucking gay."

 **. . . . .** Gary slowly sat up and turned to the Monarch, hoping his face adequately conveyed his sheer _what-the-fuck_. Channeling his inner Prohyas, he replied, "...The problems with that statement are _multifold…_ "

Ignoring the comment outright, the Monarch took the laptop after all. As he reached the top of the stone stairs, however, he stopped and grimaced. "God, these things are gonna be ice cold barefoot. ...Ihhh.."

Gary looked to him, then the slippers next to his bed, and back. "You uh… Wanna borrow these?"

"Hih?" The Monarch followed his gaze. "Oh, you sure? You hate things touching your feet, don't you?"

… Because he could remember _that_ but had trouble remembering 'Gary'. What went on in that dude's head? When had Gary even _mentioned_ this? Whatever. "Yeah it's cool, I'm already in bed. … In fact, you can borrow my robe, if you want. It's there on the wall."

"Oh, yes, excellent!" He retrieved the robe, then moved back to Gary's bed both to get the slippers and to hand Gary the laptop long enough to put both on. "You sure it's all right?"

Gary shrugged. "Yeah, I'll just get dressed first thing in the morning so I won't need it."

The Monarch took back the laptop. "All right." Suddenly, a thought seemed to occur to him, and he looked down at Gary questioningly. "Hey, when do you _sleep_ anyway?"

"Wha'd'you mean?"

"I mean you're up all night with me but you seem to be up before Dr. Wife half the time? Do you just… _not_ sleep or…?"

Gary deadpanned. "... You know. I ask myself the same question."

… "Right…" Okay then. "Well, thanks again for lending me your stuff."

"...Just. Take extra care with the robe, okay? I cosplay in that."

The Monarch smirked down at him smugly. "You know you could cosplay _for me_ some time."

"... I literally did. _Today._ You called it a 'geek cloak'."

The Monarch shrugged. "Yeah but I meant _good_ cosplay."

 _Gary was going to ignore that comment for the rest of his life for fear of ruining this relationship._ "Seriously though. Don't ruin it."

The Monarch shrugged a little too casually for comfort. "I dunno if I'd say _rui_ -" Gary grabbed his arm with surprising force.

" _Dude. I'm not fucking playing._ I will _end you._ "

A tense silence was shared between them. The Monarch's face slowly went neutral as he nodded, and Gary gradually loosened his grip until the Monarch could slip his arm from it.

Another beat passed, and another. The Monarch began moving back toward the stairs… then stopped and smirked back over his shoulder. "Y'know I'd _rather_ you _finish_ me."

Gary didn't know whether to groan or laugh or hide in embarrassment and apparently the combination of those feelings resulted in just throwing a pillow at the Monarch while trying not to smile. "Dude _go._ "

As the Monarch dodged it, he warned, "Careful! Don't want me to drop this!" It was more of a tease or a _threat_ than a precaution.

Gary wasn't sure if he was more smiling or grimacing but he rolled his eyes regardless. "Yeah, whatever…"

… So was that it then? Should he uh… say anything else, or…? It seemed kind of weird to just… let him leave on that note. Was… it too soon or too _weird_ to say 'I love you'? Did- wait was that actually mutual? Or was… Was the Monarch more interested in the physical side of things? Only now did he realize that wasn't entirely clear… Well, there was certainly one good way to test it…

The Monarch had descended a few stairs and was almost out of sight when Gary finally opened his mouth. "Hey uh-"

He stopped. "Hm?"

"... Good night, boss…"

The Monarch smiled pleasantly. "G'night~" And he continued on his way.

Gary listened until he could no longer hear the sound of slippers on stone, then threw himself back against his bed and sprawled, then brought his hands to cover his face and let out a frustrated growl.

A floodgate burst, and a million feelings began to engulf him.

Why couldn't he _say it_? What was he even doing? Should he even be doing this? How long before this blew up in his face?

Why didn't he take the opportunity when he had it? Why was he still so nervous when he knew it was someone he-

 _Did_ he love him? Was this even actually what love felt like? What if he was totally wrong? What if he figured out too late he was? What if he didn't act and figured out too late he was _right?_ What if it was already too late?

Could he live with himself if- God forbid- but if something happened and he'd never really clearly said it? Could he deal with that _again_ after-...

 _You know you were super obvious…_

But he still hadn't really _said_ it…

 _Oh c'mon, there was_ one _person you kept trying to drunk-kiss. Half the time you weren't even wasted!_

… He still wished he'd _said_ it, rather than just… leaving it to interpretation.

Gary sighed heavily. Well now that he was back on the subject of death…

Nope. Ten percent, ten percent. He'd seen guys survive worse falls than that… with… much better landings. _But ten percent._

 _Monarch._ Focus on the Monarch. Block out everything else. Everything… Pretend those intrusive thoughts aren't happening. Imagine the Monarch right now, rock hard _because of him._ He should feel proud of that, right? That was a good thought. He was definitely thinking about that and not the angle at which that guy's neck had twisted.

… So Dr.- uh… Dr. possibly-Girlfriend-again? Maybe Dr. _his_ -Girlfriend? Imagine if she was actually interested.

… Wouldn't she have said something by now if she was? They hadn't… had a _lot_ of alone time, but one of the mornings they'd had breakfast together, before the Monarch woke up? There'd been opportunities… Was the Monarch wrong? ...how deep _was_ that pit, anyway…

Nah, surely he knew his wife better than that, right? Didn't-... He said she liked him even without knowing the extent of their… kind of awkward and admittedly really brief… history, right? So there was at least a decent chance-

This wasn't working at all and was just making him feel awkward for thinking about two such horrifically contrasting things at the same time.

Groaning, Gary rolled over and pulled his remaining pillow back over his head. He _wanted_ to consider this relationship potential. Hell, he _had_ wanted to masturbate once he was alone. But there was no way in hell _that_ was happening now, was there…

 _This is_ _ **your fault**_ _, you know_ … he mentally griped.

 _Hey, I'm not the killer here_ , answered his brain.

 _It's not like I **meant** to. It was an __**accident**_ _._

 _It always is…_

And so, Gary spent the remainder of the night arguing with himself, until at last his nightmares claimed him.


	7. Success?

What a rush! What a _night!_ The Monarch still couldn't believe how wrong he'd been about his dad all these years!

Sure, he'd always had mixed feelings about the whole shared butterfly love. The Monarch loved them visually, and for several levels of what they represented to him, but he'd sort of actively avoided getting really "into" them or branching outside his treasured monarchs because he never wanted to be his dad.

Except he _did?_ Holy _shit!_ This whole vigilante schtick was _way_ cooler than dealing with all those namby pamby Guild rules. A lot of these gadgets were _still_ super cool fifty years later, and _this car!_ He squirmed in his seat just thinking about it.

The Monarch had treasured his various Monarch Mobiles, sure! But this Morpho Mobile! _Imagine!_ A flying car _in the 60's_? And either 21 was the world's most adaptable driver or it handled just as well as anything modern. He ran his hands over the dash in front of him in appreciation. Hell, with this gorgeous, classic look? He could _make love_ to this car. In fact, he was half tempted to do so..

"...Dude."

"Huh? What's that look for?"

His accomplice wasn't actually looking _at_ him- eyes on the road, particularly given they were in the process of landing on it, the doors coming down around them as they did- but his expression and tone both seemed more than a little annoyed.

Gary sighed. "No."

Outside, a concrete panel alongside the road slid and opened to reveal a long tunnel-. "...No _what?_ "

-which they entered to head into the Morpho Cave, the door closing behind them. " _No._ "

Okay then? He probably could have pushed for details, but he didn't want to. So back to reeling! "Dude! But was tonight a rush _or what?!"_ Both heels tapped rapidly against the floorboard, sometimes in sync, sometimes not at all.

"Or _what_ ," Kano answered sternly.

"Oh c'mooon! You can't _tell_ me this isn't _the_ sweetest ride that we have _ever_ had."

The henchman just sighed as he parked said ride. The Monarch quickly hopped out and proceeded to drape himself over the side of the car, not even caring how cold it felt against his face or that he was probably getting his suit dirty in the process. He just had to rub his arms against it affectionately

As 21 stepped out, he glared over the top at the Monarch. Or… tried to. A little too much concern was mixed in for a true glare. "Dude, _how_ are you not freaking out right now? That was _way_ too close tonight."

The Monarch's head at least perked up, but he was still smiling. "Oh my God, I _know_ , right?" He rushed around to 21's side, a bit of a hop in his step. "But we made it! We did it!"

He wrapped both arms around 21's neck. "And _you_ my valiant chauffeur~ You picked that up like it was nothing!" He hugged a bit tighter and lifted his feet, causing 21 to have to shift his balance to catch both of them lest the Monarch pull him to the ground. Not that the Monarch would have minded much either way. As his feet hit the ground again, he started, "I swear I could-" Well? Why stop at 'could'?

Rather than finish his sentence, the Monarch leaned in and kissed his partner in crime, one hand moving up to try to pull down his ponytail.

His effort and his giddiness were cut off, though, by a muffled "Mmph!" followed by 21 pulling away and grabbing both the Monarch's hands to still them. " _Oh my God stop,_ " he scolded. "I don't know if you're forgetting or what, but: Your. Wife. _Saw. Us._ She is _going_ to _kill_ us if we don't come up with something!"

...Right. … _Right._ "Fffff _uck._ " Only now was that finally sinking in. He took his hands back from 21 to press his palms against his temples, as if that would tame his suddenly racing thoughts. "What're we gonna do?"

"I don't know!"

"Shit. _SHIT._ " Uhhh- The Monarch started alternating between pacing and just running in place around the Morpho Cave in a desperate attempt to think. It wasn't really helping at this point, just- _panic and run, panic and run!_

RIGHT. First thing was first, he had to get out of this costume before she got home! Shit, _when_ would she be home? He had no idea. The Blue Morpho opened his costume pod and all but ripped off his suit to stuff it inside. As it was, he was pretty sure he heard a stitch break on something, but they could figure that out and fix it tomorrow. If they _made_ it to tomorrow. As he threw on the robe he'd worn down here that morning, he noticed 21 had, thankfully, joined him at the costume pods to follow suit.

...Heh. Suit.

That brief moment of levity quickly discarded- or rather, swept away by the unceasing torrent of fear- the Monarch hurried up the stairs; and 21 soon followed, apparently deciding that just his t-shirt and boxers were fine for now and leaving his overshirt and shorts to be reclaimed tomorrow.

They stopped as they reached the top. It seemed quiet. They cracked the door, and found the coast clear as far as they could tell. Together, they all but fell into the study, closing the door quickly behind them.

"Thank God we beat her," the Monarch panted.

"Dude, when is she supposed to be home today?"

"I don't _know!_ "

"Well then what are we supposed to _do?_ " 21 demanded.

Something. That much he knew, they had to do _something._ Something to- they couldn't make this up to her. They just. A distraction. A _tribute._ _g._

As he resumed his pacing and trying to think, a flash of color caught his eye. It seemed he'd wandered into the foyer, and that they'd finally gotten some of the wallpaper up. Oh hey.

He hadn't really seen it since they picked it out, and he'd only half been paying attention then. He liked this pattern and color a lot more than he re- _what was he doing._

 _-Wait._ "21!" he barked, and his henchman came running. "Do you know how to do… all this?" He indicated the walls.

"Uh… I think? It looks like there's not a lot left to do. I bet we could find some instructions online to make sure."

" _Good._ " The Monarch began heading down the hall without hesitation. "Then I'll be right back with your laptop. You start formulating a plan of attack."

To their surprise, the next two or three hours were spent finishing the walls. Their surprise came not from it taking so long- they knew it would do more harm than good if done poorly, so as much as they felt a sense of urgency the moved very slowly and meticulously to ensure everything went _just_ right. Rather, the surprise was that at the end of it, his wife still wasn't home.

"...D'you think she's okay?" 21 asked at one point, voicing both their concern.

"Of _course_ ," the Monarch scoffed all the same. "She's probably just… busy…" Cleaning up their mess. Or trying to figure out how to apprehend them, oh God. "...C-come on, we should clean this up."

It was 4am now. They'd nitpicked every square inch of the foyer until it practically sparkled. For about two seconds, the Monarch was able to appreciate their work, and for the latter of those, he wondered why they bothered with contractors. Then he realized this was the easy part that just happened to look the nicest when it was done, like icing someone else's cake. And that he was still sore just from this, though to be fair he couldn't say how much was fatigue and how much was sheer stress-induced tension. And then he went back to worrying.

"I guess… I'm gonna go hit the shower and then hit the hay," 21 said.

"...Yeah.. Same." … Right. They were currently sharing the master bathroom, weren't they. "Er… After you, I guess." At least the toilet downstairs still worked. He definitely wasn't looking forward to that being unavailable while they redid everything in there, but there was still a week's worth of other stuff planned first. And hopefully they'd be quick about it. So for now, he guessed one working shower was better than none.

"Oh. You sure?" his colleague asked.

"Yeah…" The Monarch bit his lip a bit, making his overbite more prominent. "I don't really… think I can sleep yet anyway."

21 stared at him solemnly for a moment, then nodded and headed upstairs.

The Monarch thought about what to do in the meantime, but nothing sounded like it would keep his attention over the churning knots in his stomach, so he found himself simply tossing his now-filthy robe over the side rail before sitting on the stairs… just where she'd been last night. Or… night before last, now. That realization certainly didn't help.

He crossed his arms to hold himself, suddenly craving the embrace of his unitard but nowhere near up to the task of digging it out and putting it on right now. His gaze caught between staring at the door and trying to force himself not to, his foot tapped uncontrollably against the stair on which it rested. At some point, he realized he'd started rocking, and tried to still himself, only to realize he was doing it again less than a minute later.

He didn't look up when he heard footsteps behind him, only stood and moved to let 21 by when he'd almost reached the bottom.

He hadn't really planned to talk, but 21 caught him with a "..Hey."

"Huh?"

His mouth twisted as he visibly fought over his words before settling on, "It'll be okay."

The Monarch didn't really believe him, but agreed. "Y-yeah…"

The silence to follow was a little too long and awkward given neither moved, until at last 21 shifted and added, words a bit rushed, "Butifit'snot…" The Monarch looked at him quizzically. "I… I just want you to…" There was something more he wanted to say; the look on his face was downright painful. But what could it be?

Rather than continue, 21 just moved in and wrapped the Monarch in a tight embrace. Only now did the Monarch realize they were both in nothing but their underwear, again, and even now it was noticed only in the context that there was something so very… comforting, about the touch of his skin. He wrapped his arms around 21 in turn, and buried his face against his neck, suddenly realizing he was choking back tears.

They just held each other for a few minutes, and for that brief time, the Monarch's worries, while still racing, at least seemed a little smaller. ...Until one new one occurred to him, and he couldn't help but laugh.

Loosing the embrace enough to look at him, 21 asked, "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, I just.." He chuckled a bit more- a weak, pitiful sound. "I had the thought.. Imagine if she picked _now_ to walk in the door."

21's eyes grew wide a moment before he too had to laughed, leaning his forehead against the Monarch's shoulder now. "That'd be our luck…"

...Okay but really they'd better not push it.

As they finally parted, 21 gave him a last longing look. "...Boss?"

"...Yeah?"

Their eyes met, and the Monarch started to get a feeling of what he might be trying to say. But he didn't want to assume anything, and the words that came out instead were, "Good luck."

"Same to you."

With that, 21 headed back to his room, and the Monarch grabbed his robe to head upstairs. The robe he tossed in the laundry hamper and then he took a very long shower.

When he finally fell into bed, it was 5:30 am.

He should have been tired. His body insisted he was exhausted. But his mind continued racing, and despite his body's protest against movement of any kind, he shook. Sometimes just a little- a foot, or tapping his fingers against the blanket. Other times, his whole body seemed to insist on shivering, despite the fact that he wasn't cold. This went on for what must have been around an hour.

It must have been, for he was vaguely aware that it was sunrise by the time he heard the clack of heeled boots coming down the hall, and his shaking intensified...


	8. Home

Exhausted didn't begin to describe it.

 _Exhausted_ was what she'd been by the time the Haranguetank took a nose dive into Venture's Pit of Death. After spending all day running back and forth, then being dragged back and forth, then being literally _thrown_ back and forth as her own limo swerved while Sheila was standing unsecured on the seat? Her nerves were so burnt out that she hadn't even been able to muster an outward reaction.

Everything had been a haze after the impound. There were a few moments there where she sincerely thought she might die. She'd probably just seen someone else die? And apparently Rusty fucking Venture was responsible? It just…

How was this her reality? Nothing made sense lately.

Despite her exhaustion, though, her night had still been far from over.

First, since they were _right there_ , she could hardly justify leaving the bodies until morning. And it was a very good thing she didn't, because- miraculously- Battleaxe survived. Think Tank- poor guy, she hadn't even seen him get caught up in all this- was not so fortunate.

The time between calling the ambulance and its arrival had been spent _demanding_ to speak to Dr. Venture, but the boys- the fucking _children_ \- brushed her off as they headed upstairs to hear their fucking bedtime stories, and no one else gave her even that much time of day.

Whatever. She'd get the rest of the Council on board tomorrow and send him a request he couldn't refuse. For the time being, she had to accompany Battleaxe.

That turned into a debacle in and of itself. Having purchased one of the cheaper options, Battleaxe's insurance was not the best, and as such neither was the hospital. Had Watch and Ward not insisted on tagging along, she'd have thrown a fit and insisted on paying for better care out of her own pocket, but she was far too tired to bother thinking of all the ways that would reflect poorly on her as a leader if word spread.

So she'd sat in a crowded lobby for what felt like hours, surrounded by sick and injured people, grieving or anxious loved ones, and two idiots who thought this was the perfect place to discuss something they called 'headcanons' for some ridiculous cartoon they apparently watched together.

At one point, she nearly fell asleep sitting up, but the feeling of someone suddenly touching her nose had shocked her back to consciousness. Not quickly enough to see _which_ of the Two Stooges had done it, but her money was on Ward. Both were doing a pretty bad job of trying not to laugh, though.

...And yet, for as much as she wanted to strangle them both multiple times on a daily basis, she was kind of grateful to have them there? They were brash and irreverent and seemed to speak their own language half the time, but she knew they were both deeply reliable when it counted, and she couldn't entirely deny that- as much as they were also a huge embarrassment- the levity they brought to such overwhelming situations could occasionally be a breath of fresh air, if only a short fleeting breath.

And it had certainly been better than being alone.

At long last, they received word that Battleaxe was stable and shouldn't need to stay more than a few days. That was a relief.

However, they didn't want to admit Sheila to see her. "Family only," they said. That was a problem.

Finally, when ample insistence and attempted lies about relations didn't work, she'd just resorted to having Watch and Ward cause a diversion while she snuck in.

Fortunately, Battleaxe was awake, if still disoriented, when she did.

Unfortunately, she was also a blubbering mess. Apologizing for running off on her own, still grieving the loss of her husband, lamenting now losing the Haranguetank, too.

"Oh… H-hey, it'll be all right, you'll see," Sheila had weakly tried to reassure her, gently taking her hand. "Don't you worry about a thing. I'll take care of all the paperwork myself, and we'll have you a nice new place set up by the time you're back on your feet."

In her neck brace, Battleaxe could not shake her head, but from her expression and the way her face twitched, Sheila imagined she wanted to. "I can stay in the loft above me bar just fine. But the Haranguetank was _home…_ " The sobbing only grew worse. " _Our_ home…"

And it was that moment that stuck with Sheila most through the rest of the night. Someone who romanticized that- that _putrid_ \- Sheila hadn't been able to stand being inside it. But to Battleaxe, _that_ was home. It was… to rely on the old cliché, where her heart was. And that…

She didn't have the energy to cry with her right now, but a few tears managed to find their way out all the same.

When a doctor came by and finally caught her, Sheila was ready to say her goodbyes and leave anyway, but to her surprise, Battleaxe bought her a little extra time to do so by _firmly_ insisting that Sheila was, in fact, family.

After the hospital, it was back to the Ventech building to go retrieve the Haranguetank, salvage what they could from it (somehow, her laptop was only slightly banged up? What company did the Guild _use_ , some secret child of Nokia?), and then paperwork… _So_ much paperwork… Most of it was mandatory. Some was just to make things easier on Battleaxe. Much of both could have been put off until tomorrow, but, even though she was running on fumes and Determination at this point, Sheila just wanted it to be done. She didn't want to have to deal with this incident again any more than she had to. Better to get it all done in one fell swoop.

And then there was the commute back to Newark, during which she had to admit she'd ended up dozing for the last few minutes- taking off her jacket to use as a blanket, even- until Watch and Ward woke her to let her know she was home.

Now, as she mustered the strength to stand, and then somehow walk, and then somehow walk up stairs, Battleaxe's attachment to that awful RV came to mind again. And here Sheila was, with a literal mansion that she'd been counting as little more than another on her long list of headaches.

And it was at that point that she opened the door to find a sincerely beautiful room awaiting her. It wasn't just finished, but vibrant, polished. She'd been objectively aware they had bought a throw rug to match the wallpaper they'd picked out, but seeing both together in place looked so much better than she had imagined. The chandelier, too, seemed to shine a little brighter than she'd expected.

Or perhaps she was just seeing it all through new lenses. Either way, she felt so very grateful, and so very, very fortunate.

Her hat and coat were tossed down on the floor the moment she entered her bedroom, for she found herself _far_ beyond the point of caring about such things. The _plan_ had been to sit on the bed next to take off her boots, but when she noticed the Monarch shivering, that was discarded in favor of immediately lying down and cuddling up to warm him. "Someone had a very busy day," she cooed. She hated to wake him, but she just...

The way she'd left that- _yesterday_ \- morning, she needed him to know she wasn't angry anymore, to remind him how valuable and loved he was, as soon as she possibly could. "The vestibule looks _great_ , honey."

As she continued, he took her apology better than she could have hoped. He really had come so far and calmed down so much lately, and it only made her all the more grateful to have him. "You're not the enemy, sweetie," she told him, still a little rueful she'd ever let herself believe he was.

He lazily leaned over to kiss her cheek, and although it barely brushed against her, in that moment it felt like the sweetest and most satisfying gesture she could have received.

She rolled over, partially to get more comfortable and partially so he wouldn't see just how beyond drained she was as she muttered, as much to herself as anything, "I know who my enemy is…"

He said nothing, and she didn't expect him to. It was still so early. He was probably about to doze back off, and she really should join him.

...After taking off her boots, finally, and getting undressed, she reminded herself.

…. She was… definitely going to do that.

In just a minute.

But the bed had gripped her in such a sweet embrace, and surely it couldn't hurt to enjoy it for just a moment longer before getting back up….

In the end, she fell asleep fully clothed, shoes and all.


End file.
